


Heathen Child

by withinandwithout



Category: True Detective
Genre: Drug Use, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withinandwithout/pseuds/withinandwithout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crash without Rust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Crash is not an extension of Rust Cohle. They are not related. Crash is born again, in a way, but he only believes in himself.

Crash gargles with Jameson and spits it into the sink each night, then takes a ritualistic swig to grow on. When he finally throws himself down on the mattress, the burn of the whiskey in his stomach reminds him that it's the only legal thing he's consumed all day. Crash shuts off the lights and he's asleep within seconds.

He sleeps with his clothes on, and that means boots too. He's used to the reality that he could -- and often does -- get woken up, shaken out of bed and sent back into the fire without time to dress, much less asses what he's diving headlong into. 

"Reinvention" isn't a word that Crash ever thinks about. He simply wasn't, and now he is.

Crash is the slow, loose swagger in hot Texan nights when you're tired of holding your body too tightly for too long. He's the space between passing out and bursting with adrenaline; the feeling of your brain rattling in your head, never enough sleep, but pushing on because there's no other acceptable option. Crash is a hint of danger, he's catlike, slipping in and out of unknown spaces in the night. He can see further into the darkness of night than is humanly possible.

Crash knows how to blend in, how to be useful but unremarkable. He is a skeletal weapon, loose and ready. He knows exactly what he can handle, but he has no perspective. He only exists because of a job.

Crash thinks of Rustin Cohle as another lifetime. He would feel grateful that he got to leave that behind, but Crash has never experienced gratitude. Crash can make things happen where Rust never could. He has freedom where Rust never did, and in that freedom, there's power. It's intoxicating.


	2. Chapter 2

Almost everyone Crash knows prays, even the guys who've never cracked a Bible. For a lot of them, it's a superstition rather than a matter of faith, but it's one they swear by.

Crash prays too, but to a different god from the other men. The others pray for Heaven after death. Crash prays for death, pure and simple. His is not a forgiving god.

While their God tells them "I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand _[subject to interpretation]_ ," his says, "Sit down and shut up, Cohle. Alright, you better have something good _[not subject to interpretation]_." 

His god doesn't give a shit if he is born again. His god still calls him Officer Cohle. Crash doesn't know why he's being denied his new identity (who goes by any number of names, depending on where he is on the map), but it doesn't really matter. Crash knows his god; a brand of men who have been trained to handle dangerous animals like him. Who take their firearms and badges off at a certain point and call it a day. Who fuck in unoccupied rooms and then go home to their wives. Who golf on the weekend and then drink beer like they've earned it. Who can only imagine (should they try) what he, Crash, sees every day. 

Given what he knows of God, Crash is a true nonbeliever. 

But sometimes Crash feels like he's the God the others pray to. _"Dear God, please don't let me get jammed up tonight."_ One word from Crash and that guy could be put away for 3-5. _"Oh Lord, let me live. I want to see my family tomorrow."_ Crash could run interference and then make sure this one gets out before the flashing lights appear and judgment comes.

But mostly, the world Crash inhabits is lawless and without reason, and bad shit happens to good people and good shit happens to total fucking assholes. If you stop to think about any of it, it will level you in seconds flat. 

Crash doesn't think about it, but even if he did, but he lacks the ability to care very much.

Crash thinks maybe the others would stop praying if they knew just how ambivalent God really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update. I'm working on a few different ideas for this, so I'll probably be posting more soon. Hopefully I'll be getting into more specific events/parts of Crash's life. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Title of this fic is taken from the Grinderman song by the same name. More to come!


End file.
